When we moved into the house I envisaged that I would turn out to be amazingly green fingered, and within a year at most I would have created a miniature English cottage garden, complete with pond, fish, lots of flowers, and sunbathing cat. To no-one’s surprise except mine, this didn’t quite work out. Of course, one limiting factor was having to get the roof completely redone, which meant that all last summer building materials were stacked in the back garden. But the main issue is I’m pretty bad at gardening.

I can do a few things: if I plant things in pots I can remember to water them a couple of times a week. And as long as they’re not particularly sensitive to over- or under-watering, mostly they seem to survive. For herb plants, though, I seem to be the kiss of death. I’ve killed almost every herb plant I ever had, apart from one parsley that seems to be immortal. I blame it on the fact that they’re in small pots. That’s definitely it.

On the plus side, our geraniums are threatening to break out of their borders, on one side of the garden an in-your-face mix of pink and white and red and on the other a dusky pink combined with triffid like amounts of foliage. I for one welcome my new plant overlords, and hope they will crack down severely on the bindweed, because it’s clear I’m not going to do it.

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